Debra Kay Leland

by From Whence Came A Stranger. . .

  Phillip spared him but a glance before he jumped to the seat, praying all would be well—and that none from Chadwick would follow them this day! The bumpy road slowed their retreat as he glanced at his friends jarring body knowing he could go no faster without causing him more pain. His face was pale, his lips tinged with blue, his jaw clenched tight against it… And Phillip prayed…

  Thomas turned from his work at the sound of the cart only to see Phillip motioning for him urgently before he ran to meet them. “Shhh… I think he sleep, help me get him in the house...”

  “What happened?! Were ye attack?! Good God, I shall make quick work of them if they dared attack thee!”

  “Nay, there was no trouble. He seemed fine, and then he complained of a headache, nigh stumbled and fell because of it. I feared the worst for a moment… Ye should have seen him, Thomas, his skin was so pale and tinged blue—I thanked the Lord that he rests now.”

  The other man stared at him, his brows knit together with concern as he helped him lift their friend gently from the cart. “’Tis—‘tis possible the head wound has not healed properly...”

  Phillip glanced at Thomas with a grim nod. “Aye, ’tis possible…”

  “Could it be just be a passing thing then?”

  “We can only hope it to be so, but they come and go… Sometimes he tells us, sometimes he does not…”

  The two men exchanged a concerned look as they drew the unconscious man up between them. William didn’t even wake up with the motion, which only added to their fears as they laid him down and glanced at each other with worried eyes knowing he should have at least stirred a little from their actions. Thomas turned and caught the other man’s arm after they had laid him down gently. “Let him rest now, Phillip, he only needs to rest and all shall be well. Yee shall see!”

  Phillip knelt beside him anyway and laid a hand on his chest, feeling for the steady rhythm of his heart; trying all the while to convince himself that it was merely a passing thing and nothing else. But the slow thudding of his heart and his ragged breathes gave him cause to worry as he whispered tensely, “He—he could die…”

  “Nay, do not speak it! Cover him with a blanket and I shall stoke the fire, and all shall be well…!”

  Through the long day he did not awake, did not even stir—his face pale and breaths ragged, and it only adding to their already worried thoughts…

  William opened his eyes and blinked at the sunlight that threaded through the open shutter. He didn’t remember coming home or lying down; and yet the eastern light told him it was morning. He lifted a hand and rubbed his head where the scar still lay beneath his hair. The pounding had stopped; at least for now, and thankfully the pain had gone with it, though just a light touch made him wince again.

  Phillip touched his shoulder gently and murmured. “Are ye well, m’lord?”

  He managed a weary smile as he answered, “Ye—are to address me as William, not ‘m’lord, Phillip.”

  Phillip laughed softly then turned to Thomas who sat by the fire; both men feeling relief at their friend’s light hearted words. “Then, the pain is gone?”

  “Pain? Aye, ‘tis gone.”

  “I have never seen anything like it before—it pulled thee away from us and we didn’t know what to do!”

  William merely frowned as he tried to sit up, wanting nothing more than to change the subject. “I am very much better, I assure thee; and very much hungry. Have ye started the food yet?”

  “Good God, no! We feared for thy life not our stomachs! Lie still and I shall start something.”

  “Nay, I shall rise, no sense letting the thing keep me down any longer than it already has.”

  Thomas came over and helped him to his feet. “Are ye weak?”

  William looked at him and smiled, then nodded slowly. There was no sense denying it, for he was sure that they would see it yet again. “Some, but I shall recover.”

  Thomas threw Phillip a worried glance that spoke of each other’s troubling thoughts, neither could deny it; they both knew that he was just making light of something very dangerous and yet prayed they were both wrong.

  Egan stopped in the field where Alden Blair stood sharpening a sickle as he harvested his wheat in the hot autumn sun. “Good day to ye, Alden.”

  The older man glanced up; then back down at his work again. “And to ye. What brings ye to my farm, Egan?” He said with more annoyance than he knew he should.

  The man shifted and crossed his arms over his broad chest like he always did. “The men are nervous about the English that comes here.”

  “He does naught but barter and leaves me with a feast in the process; and one which ye might remember I share evenly with ye also.”

  “We know that, Alden, but the man could be up to no good and using ye in the process to accomplish it! Ye know him not well, and yet ye leave yur own daughter to go with him unprotected!”

  Alden took his eyes from his work long enough to throw the man beside him a warily look. “Is this what yur visit is all about? Well, Miranda is never far from the village nor our farm… And need I remind ye that she has a knife, and she knows well how to use it! Though, I think that yur wrong about the English, I don’t see violence in his eyes.”

  “Ye see what ye wish to see!”

  “Do not bring harm to the man, Egan. He is English; and if ye attack him, ye shall likely bring an army down upon our heads in the process!”

  The younger man’s only pursed his thin lips, his nostrils flaring angrily knowing it was true. “Aye, he is English and all the better reason to keep him away from our village…! He paused and drew a calming breath that did not work. “Alright—we shall not lend to his trouble; but let me be clear, Alden, we shall watch the man, and if he dare lend to ours, he best beware!”

  “Well and good.”

  The younger man stood there for a moment longer; and Alden looked up at him again. “Is there aught else that bothers ye, Egan?”

  “…Aye, ‘tis Miranda… I—I wish to ask if I may take the lass for a walk.”

  Alden stiffened, but didn’t look up. “The lass ‘tis not yet even six and ten summers, Egan. She feels she is too young to accept a suitor and so do I.”

  Egan shifted with a hard scowl. “’Tis true that the lass is young; but yet some girls have married and had children by her age. I—I have been patient with her, and ye know it well.” He shifted on long legs as he spoke in an annoyed sincerely tone, “…I would be good to her and am able keep her safe, ye know that…”

  Alden stood and set the tool down as he looked at the man squarely. “I thank ye for yur honesty, Egan Wallace, but the lass has no mind to wed yet; and I shall not force her to do so. If ye are true, then ye shall show her by waiting till she be ready! Show the lass she can trust ye! But until that time, I shall not let her go off with ye alone; nor any other man for that matter!”

  “She wanders away with the English!”

  “Ye know yurself that every eye in the village is upon them, and one can see the village from the bend as well as my farm! I would not do so if I felt that the man meant harm, and ye know that to be true!”

  The younger man shifted on rigid legs and dropped his hands to his hips as he let out tense breath. “Alright then, I see ye are in no mind to be reasonable...! Good day to ye, Alden.”

  “I am being reasonable; Egan—and ye shall wait!” He watched the younger man go with an uneasy feeling. Miranda was too young for the likes of him and he knew it well, but young or not, he would rather she found another than the likes Egan Wallace!

  Miranda stood in the shadows of the barn and listened to Egan and her father talk; a sickening feeling settling in her stomach as she did so. She bit her lips softly and prayed that her father would not give into the man’s angry request. He had told Egan no before this, but yet the man persisted and she could only pray that her father would again stand his ground.

  When the man finally left she came out with a worried look on her young face.r />
  “Ye heard then?”

  “…Aye.”

  “Are ye sorry for it, lass?”

  “Nay, da, I do not wish to go off alone with him, ye know that!”

  He looked at her then lowered his gaze. “I shall not force ye to marry, lass, though Egan is determined. But remember, that the older ye get, the less men shall want ye—and if Egan has placed a claim on ye, then no other shall dare seek thy hand…”

  She blushed and picked up her basket of eggs trying to avoid the weight of his words. “All well and good for me then, aye? I shall not marry at all then and be too old for the likes of him or anyone else!”

  He somehow managed a smile at her smug words as he watched her turn towards the house. She was a bonny lass; and it would be hard to keep the men away. He wished she would find one to her liking and be well and wed before Egan or any other could stop her; but for today he could only wait and hope that all would be well…

  As the week passed, the late autumn sun made the fields golden with unharvested grain; it was slow work for the three men, but soon they had enough stored in the barn to see them and their livestock through the cold winter ahead.

  William straightened and drew his arm over his sweaty forehead as he spoke, “Tomorrow we shall go the village as usual, but this time we shall not barter. We shall leave the grain for the villagers in hopes that our kindness shall yield us a goodly name among them—and perhaps even purchase a little help.”

  Phillip looked at his friend and nodded silently hardly listening as he watched him rub the side of his head again without realizing he had done so. He worried at the sight, knowing what it meant—that soon another headache would take him…

  William slumped against the doorway of the barn and held his head tightly. The pain pounding with every heartbeat, he looked out the door hoping to see his companions; but he was alone, and he knew that soon the pain would wrestle his very conscious thoughts from him. He let himself slide down the door; holding his head as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, his jaw clenched against wave after wave of torment, till darkness overtook him yet again…

  “Phillip! Good God, help me!” The red haired man jumped from the cart and rushed to the barn where Thomas knelt holding his friend in his arms. “Help me get him in the house!”

  The two picked the tall man up and carried him to his bed; removing his shoes and belt carefully before they covered him up. Thomas slumped down on the stool beside him, his head in his hands. “Good God, how can this be happening to him?!” He looked up at his friend’s ashen color and blue tinged lips and shook his head slowly and whispered, “I—I fear it shall take his very life from him…!”

  Phillip nodded slowly. “…As—as do I… But for his sake we must never speak it! Let—let him live out his life in peace, Thomas… Let him live without worry that death itself, stalks his very breathe…”

  The taller man looked up into eyes that merely reflected his own worry before he slumped forward again. “Aye, for his sake, I shall not speak of it but with ye. But, Phillip, if he suffers…”

  The other man fought against tears that threatened to overtake him. “He—he is our friend, a knight, and the son of an Earl… We shall not let him suffer. I—I know of herbs that shall deaden the pain. He shall not suffer, I give ye my word…”

  The two took turns through the long night’s vigil, till come morning they noticed the thing release their friend yet again; his color returned, his harsh breathes had eased, and his body once more relaxed and only then did they know that he was yet destined to live another day.

  William woke in the morning in his bed and frowned; he remembered being in the barn, though it was the last thing he remembered before the pain gripped him drawing him into darkness like it always did. He sat up and smiled at his worried friends as if nothing had happened, though he knew full well it had. “Do not look so worried, Phillip. It was only a headache; ye act like a mother hen watching over her chicks.”

  Phillip glanced at Thomas and forced a smile. “Ock, and if I didn’t dote over ye, who would?”

  He stood and handed William a bowl of porridge from the grain they had just harvested the day before.

  “Porridge?”

  “Aye, and if ye complain of my doting over ye again, I shall stir in a little chaff to boot.”

  William laughed and spooned some into his mouth, then raised his hand with a smile as he spoke between bites. “I swear—I shall not ever say another word.”

  Phillip laughed and his concern for his friend fell behind a smile yet again…

  Chapter Six

  The sweet smell of wild flowers drifted in the soft autumn breeze, golden sunlight filtered through the still lush leaves barely kissed with the colors of fall... Everything was perfect; but one thing, it was the first day of the week and the whole village knew it…!

  Miranda hurried, hoping to somehow to miss Egan that day; even though she knew it was useless to try—she did it anyway. If it weren’t for the English she would have begged off, for in truth the whole thing had begun to unnerve her. She never knew exactly where he’d be waiting for her, never knew if she was being watched or not until he wished her to notice him, and she hated it!

  He stood leaning against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest stiffly waiting for her to round the bend. He wanted her to know he was there, wanted her to know that he too had remembered and that he was not pleased. He straightened as he saw her coming his way and almost smiled when he saw her hesitate because of him. And though he had promised to hold his peace till she was older; she sorely tempted him even now…

  She hesitated when she noticed him coming towards her; then looked down and continued on her way purposefully ignoring him.

  “Good day, lass.”

  She paused yet again; then glanced up at him uneasily. “Ye should not be waiting for me, Egan, and ye know it well!”

  He shrugged and turned to follow her. “And why not? ‘Tis the day that the Englishman comes to the village, is it not? And I won’t have ye meet him alone; even if yur da thinks it right, I do not!”

  “He has not come to bring trouble; ye have seen so for yurself.”

  He raised one dark brow as he continued, “It matters not why he comes here; he is still not welcome.”

  She glanced at him again as she walked on stiffly. “And are ye to make trouble for him?”

  He chose not to answer as he continued on beside her silently. He would do what he needed to do with or without her permission.

  As she came to the edge of the village she stopped; stepping away from Egan purposefully as he settled himself down comfortably onto the grassy knoll, his eyes never leaving her as he did so. “Will ye sit with me, lass?”

  At his words she stepped even farther away, throwing him a hard frown as she spoke, “Nay, I shall not. Ye should not even be here talking to me and ye know it well, Egan Wallace!”

  He laughed. “Everyone in the village knows how I feel about ye, ‘tis no secret I assure ye.”

  She blushed and turned away; purposefully going to the opposite side of the roadway. She stood there stiffly facing the road, trying hard not to even acknowledge his presence. Yet he stared at her, despite her wary withdrawal.

  She turned on him then and scowled. “If—ye press yur suit, Egan Wallace, I swear I shall not even speak to thee! I have no need of a man I cannot trust…!

  His dark eyes narrowed at her well chosen words that were meant to prick his conscience; and they did. He turned his head towards the road with a growl; pausing before he lowered his voice. “…I only asked ye to sit with me; ye should know by now that I would never hurt ye.”

  She blushed and looked down; knowing in her heart that of all the men in the village, she trusted him the least. And yet to say so would only anger him more. But before she could find words to answer, the cart rounded the bend ahead of them. Miranda straightened at the sight, wishing she felt more than worry for him; but she knew well what kind of welcome he was to r
eceive this day.

  Egan stood slowly his eyes never leaving her. He stepped out warily and drew closer to the road purposefully making his presence known.

  William spotted him first and murmured, “Ah… and our friend, Egan, had come to greet us also this day.”

  “More likely to run us through with his sword. Do ye think there is need to worry?”

  William laughed and threw his friend a sly look as he spoke, “With the Welsh there is always need to worry.”

  Phillip scowled and drew his eyes back to the scene in front of them; wishing there was some way to make William listen to his concerns before they both found themselves in a fight, or worse. But despite his own fears, he knew that William was determined to do this thing.

  Miranda didn’t even dare offer them a friendly greeting; well aware of the dark eyes that now watched her as she said in a soft even tone, “Good day, English.”

  William smiled and reined the horse in, not daring to meet her gaze either. “Good day. I have brought sacks of grain from the harvest…” He said as he climbed down, walking around the cart without another word before both he and Phillip began to unload it, setting the heavy sacks down on the side of the road. “… I have not come to barter this day. Though, a favor I shall ask. If there be men who would help us to harvest the grain before the crop is lost; would ye send them to us? They may have what they harvest, for in truth we have more than enough for the winter ahead.”

  Her eyes widened at his words as she watched them lift sack after sack from the cart. “Ye—ye have not come to barter with it then? But—the grain is worth more than all the produce ye have brought us before time…”

  Egan came closer and opened a sack; thrusting his hand into the golden grain and letting it filter through his strong tanned fingers. “’Tis clean and dry…”

  William almost laughed. “I would not have given it to thee if it were not edible. As I have said, we have all we need for the winter; we only lack help with the rest.”